Forging a Weapon for Eons

[GhostOfProtocol]

Every skill learned deserved to be used, it was simple. If you learned something that granted you power, then you deserved to use this. Thus, the private quarters of Darth Novus in the Atrisian Palace lay in ruins, books thrown aside and a large alchemy set on the back table. He'd move it all into a spare room at one point, but he really wanted this weapon. He'd spent the last three weeks tracing, drawing and redoing the sigils he would need for construction during this little experiment.

It'd been hard, the book that Darth Ophidia had given him didn't have a glossary, it was a case of scanning and scanning until you found what you wanted, it was just that simple. It'd taken time to find the sigils, then draw them out perfectly. Then he had to hunt for a Coursca Gem, something he would slide into the hilt of the weapon. He wasn't sure if was something completely required when working with alchemy, he was new to it, but he'd been taught to use one so he would.

He twisted a small knob on the bottom of his portable furnace built into his alchemy table, happy when he saw the flame. It would take a few moments to heat to the correct temperature, but that would be fine. He felt his hands drift across the durasteel and silver he would be alloying together before his alchemy began. He'd learned while training, he'd learned not to throw his hand into the cauldron, that hurt.

His mask sat to the side, unneeded during the alchemy task. He'd locked his door, no-one could walk in. If they did, he had his hood up and he was facing away from the door. No-one would ever see his eye after the fight with the Jedi, the only person that had ever seen it was the doctor that collected him and worked on him after his duel.

The duel that changed his life.

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

He took hold of the wooden handle on the portable furnace, sliding the small basin out so that he could see it. It was ample hot enough, and he smiled as he dropped in his durasteel and silver, sliding it back into the furnace. It would take a while, thus he took hold of his shaping tools, starting to shape the Corusca Gem into a small diamond shape. No-one would see the gem anyway, it was there encase it was needed, Novus didn't even know. He just decided he would do what he normally did.

Wing it.

Novus, the name sat perfectly with Colt. Novus, new and strange, perfect for Colt. He was new, he was strange. He was a new man since his cliff accident, it was perfect. He was new for the better, he was powerful and he knew his limits and how to push them. He also forgot everything from before the accident, allowing him to forget any pointless feuds and rivalries, something that made his stronger as he built new ones.

The Silver Sanctum, The Republic and Darth Kentarch for example.

He felt the final scrape of gem fall away, sliding the gem down to the side. He slid his basin out from inside the furnace, happy with the result. He sloshed it around lightly, pouring it into the premade mold that he had in front of him. He would bind the hilt part in leather once it was set and he would polish and sharpen it at the same time. He took his gem once more, eyeing it in the light. It was a great looking thing.

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

He slid his mold into a small freezer, speeding up the process of setting. He needed his weapon to be set completely before he continued working on it, it wasn't worth it shattering or slowly melting away in his hands. It would need to be perfect, his weapon would be his way. A sword would go perfectly with a new set of gear he had ordered as well, that was another upside. The look would be perfect, and he thought about that, smiling.

Slowly, he stood up. He had nothing to do until tomorrow, he needed to let his mold set completely before he began working with the sword, sharpening it on the sander he had in the corner. He thought again lightly, knowing full well that he would need to start moving everything into a spare room somewhere else in the palace. He wouldn't personally do it, although he would offer a hand every so often to those actually moving it.

He loved palace workers, they worked for a room in the basement and food, two things they got. It didn't cost him anything, and his accountants had already told him that Atrisia was turning a profit. They were earning way more on taxes than they were paying out and his lead scientists and mental workers had told him that Atrisians were all happy, all but a few small rebel groups that the royal guard and the police force crushed.

It was good to be a Lord.

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

The day after his sword molding, Novus awoke slightly happy. He knew it was the perfect time to finish his sword, make it perfect. Well, he would need to spend three days on it, but he could do the bulk of the work today. That was the theory anyway, he just needed to work hard and spend his time making everything perfect. It was an easy job, and he smiled about that as he pulled open the freezer, removing his mold.

He popped the sword from the mold, sliding it out onto the table. He grabbed some leather from another draw, sliding that next to the sword. He took his screw driver and some glue, sliding them down next to the leather and the sword. He slid his hand next to his sander, pressing the on button lightly. The whirl was great, the sound was near perfect as the gears and cogs working. Slowly, Novus sat down, happy.

He slid his hands across the sword, the small groove of the mold showing where the hilt would end and where the blade would start. He took some glue lightly, dotting it onto the top of the hilt. He pressed the leather down, starting to wrap it around the hilt of the blade, adding glue every so often to make sure the leather is tight and won't come up. He took three screws, screwing them into the leather in a few places.

He eyed his work, putting back the bits he didn't need.

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

He held a small lighter to the wood under the small cauldron, watching as the flame crept up lightly. The cauldron liquids bubbled together, a smaller bubble popping on the inside. It would heat up, it would require a blood sacrifice, but it would work perfectly. Slowly, Novus eyed his Katana sword, sliding the gem into place with some slight spot welding. It was a simple task for him, something he found easy. From his waking, he was a great mechanic, and he wasn't sure how.

He eyed his drawings lightly, taking his small scalpel. He followed the blade, starting to add his drawing of the sigils. They needed to be perfect, or either he would die or the sword's power would be weakened, two things he didn't plan on during his building. He continued his drawing quickly, but he spent his time adding every single detail, every single detail would need to be perfect, it would need to look perfect. It was that simple.

He finished the sigils he needed, eyeing the final sigil. The sigil of power, the sigil that would bring the other sigil alive. It was a simple sigil to draw and add to the sword, but it was the most important. It was the most important because it would bring the katana, it would bring the sword alive. It was the most important, he would make it perfect.

When he was happy, it was time to continue.

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

He smiled to himself, eyeing the small alchemical symbol in the dead center of the table. It would be needed later, but for now he needed the sander he turned on earlier. He took the blunt katana sword, pressing the tip at a slight angle against the sander, smiling as the sound of alloy grinded away to create the sharp point. He twisted the blade, the other angle getting the same treatment, the same grind and the same sand down.

He pulled away, feeling the point lightly. It was sharp, a great point that he would use to cut into veins and arteries that were normally important. They would bleed out, and the weapon would be able to do whatever it's owner could do. It was safer, it had that going for it as well. A katana was safer, easier to use and less dangerous to the owner. It was dangerous, that wasn't a secret, but it was less dangerous than anything else.

He took a small cloth lightly, dabbing it in some polish, starting to work on cleaning his sword, make it shine like he wanted it too. When he was happy with the shine, he nodded to himself, knowing full well that it would be time to start the process soon. He needed to make a holder first though.

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

He'd already cut the leather for his sheath, it was a case of sitting and hand stitching it together while making the bonds perfect. He wasn't the best at this, he didn't mind admitting that to himself, he wasn't a sewer. He didn't sew, he worked with mechanics every so often but he didn't sew. He was stepping outside of his comfort zone for this, he didn't mind admitting that he was going outside of his comfort zone.

He knew he was.

He lay the two sheets of leather ontop of each other, casting a needle on lightly. He was using dark brown thread, the same color as the leather that would make the sheath. He began working slowly, twisting every so often to keep everything inline. It was a simple task to most, but to him it was something that he'd never done, something outside of his comfort zone, something he'd never done before. Though, in fairness.

He wasn't that bad.

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

With his sheath finished, he finally carried his sword over to the basin, finally starting the ritual. He slid his sword inside the cauldron, smiling lightly. He took a small knife in his other hand, ready to feel, ready to take the pain of slitting his own skin, drawing his own blood to begin to make power. It would be hard, it would be very hard, it would cause pain, but the pain would make him stronger.

He was a Sith, pain and anger made him stronger, hate and anger made him stronger. Everything the Jedi were against made him stronger, he was more powerful than a Jedi and his Katana would prove that. His work would prove he was more powerful and he would laugh as a Jedi tried to attack him, thinking the katana as powerless.

He drove the knife into his skin, flinching lightly. He closed a fist, the blood trickling into the cauldron, smiling. A small bubble and a small pop let him know everything, the blood had worked. He smirked again, using the force to pull the sword from the cauldron. It would be powered soon.

It would be, easily.

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

He eyed the sword on the alchemical symbol, smiling to himself. He quickly flicked through his notes, stopping upon a small chant in High Sith. He was getting better and grasping High Sith, not fluent but better. He muttered the chant to himself lightly, nodding to himself. It was an easy enough chant, it was getting a grip on the High Sith way of thinking, that was the hardest part about it. The accent and the formation of letters was hard to get a grasp of.

Slowly, he put the sheets down, eyeing the katana lightly. He began to push out with the darkside, filling the palace room with it. The force would answer him, it would allow him to continue his work and to enjoy his work. He needed to get an answer first though, the force would need to answer him.

A shadow crept up in the corner of the room, a shadow that should of been impossible due to the light. The dark side was at work, Novus knew that. The dark side had happily answered him, he would be able to continue his work in alchemy, finish creating his perfect katana. He chuckled to himself, reading over the chant one last time.

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

He eyed the sword one last time, still continuing to push with the force. He couldn't eat now, three days without food, three days chanting to the sword. It was that simple, that was how to complete the alchemy of the sword, how to make the sword perfect and amazing. How to make his perfect sword, his perfect weapon, it was that simple.

He began his chant, lightly at first, still pushing out with the force. Slowly, slowly and slowly he began to increase in volume, continuing to push out with the force, the shadow's dancing in the corner. It would become repetition, having to chant at the sword for three days, fast for three days. Otherwise, otherwise the alchemy would kill him, that was always the downside of alchemy, one wrong move and you would die.

You would die, but alchemy also had it's own weakness. Force light, a Jedi could ruin the day of alchemy with force light. He wasn't sure why, he just knew it was a weakness someone had clearly overlooked when doing alchemy. Why could force light ruin alchemy, he wasn't quite sure.

It was just really annoying.